To her relief he refrained from wearing his high priced inflated ego suit. He looked so much better in his blue jeans and black t-shirt. Actually he looked even better earlier that morning clad only in tight-fitting dark blue boxers. During the course of the evening he had retired to the couch.
When she had awoken and rose from the bed she found him in the kitchen, scantily clad, making them coffee. His perfect, creamy, coffee-colored flesh was almost completely unmarred, except for one small round scar, high on his left shoulder. She was right, he was powerfully built, impressively so. His trunk-like thighs were sculptured works of fine art. His broad back blocked the sun from the one window in the entire cabin.
When he had turned to greet her she couldn't resist the impulse to look lower, and then wished she hadn't. Even as she watched she could see him harden through the material and the word magnificent leaped into her mind. She couldn't help her scandalous thoughts of wanting to touch him, everywhere, anywhere. She had licked her dry lips with the sudden flush of heat she felt. She wondered what he would look like in his glory, completely unclad. As soon as the thought popped unbidden into her head she felt a heated blush creep over her neck and face.
"Thinking about me without my clothes on again?" she heard him say dryly from across the living room. She snapped back to the present.
How on earth did he always seem to know what she was thinking? It was so incredibly irritating!
"Stay out of my head!" she grouched with annoyance.
"Ah, an admission of guilt," he replied with a wide grin.
"I admit nothing."
"Smart girl," he said while laying a finger aside his nose and winking.
"Is this your cabin?" Vonnie asked, changing the subject. She placed her drink onto the table and wandered around the sparsely furnished room.
"It's one of many safe houses I have at my disposal."
"Why are you and the CIA so interested in Harriet Powers and her quilts? I know it would be fascinating to uncover something so significant for a historian, but it was long ago for the government to express interest now. I mean slavery was limited in Canada with the passing of The Upper Canadian Act Against Slavery in 1793. It was abolished throughout the British Empire in 1833. Is there something more to it? You mentioned something about other government secrets."
She watched him as he took a leisurely drink from his glass. His eyes remained fixed on her. He had spiked her cola with cherry brandy. She wasn't certain that was all he had put in it and after her first taste she had decided it would be best to leave it be, just in case.
"I'm always interested in learning anything about espionage. Perhaps quilts are still being used. It would be simple enough and foolproof, for the most part. How would you decipher something innocuous as opposed to noxious? We could use the quilt as a teaching tool. Did you know espionage has been around for thousands of years? The CIA has stories on lessons in spying from the Bible."
Vonnie chuckled with amusement. He looked so serious. He placed his own drink on the table and picked up hers. He strolled over to stand before her. The condensation of the tall clear glass slipped over one of his long, strong fingers. The ice clinked as he lifted her beverage to his own lips and swallowed one quarter of the contents in a lazy gulping motion. She watched his Adam's apple rise and fall, until her mouth watered and she almost felt as though the cool refreshing liquid slipped down her own throat. He handed her the glass and cocked his head while lifting a dark, perfect eyebrow.
"It's not drugged, Vonnie. Your virtue is safe with me."
How disappointing, she almost murmured, and then hid behind the pretense of taking a sip from her glass. He sauntered away from her, leaving her standing where she was by the window, and sat back down in the plush easy chair he had vacated. She wished these disturbing thoughts would quit popping into her head.